


Surprise for Cassandra

by NorroenDyrd



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorkable, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Gift Giving, Inspired by Music, Wingman Iron Bull
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: Some time after the defeat of Corypheus, Inquisitor Ralav Cadash, a cheeky ex-Carta rogue with a hidden penchant for music and theatre, has been getting up to something. Something that Cassandra will Greatly Approve of.





	Surprise for Cassandra

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a Tumblr prompt.

‘Bull, tell me honestly,’ Cassandra says, firm emphasis on every word. ‘Am I being paranoid?’  
  
  
As she speaks, her fingers lock tighter round the hilt of the practice blade.   
  
She and the former Ben-Hassrath were supposed to be sparring with these: Cullen is busy disciplining his own men, including his former comrade, Samson, who has been allowed a modicum of freedom now that his master has been defeated, and whom the commander is trying to whip into at least some vague semblance of a healthy man; Rainier is still far from being back into Cassandra’s good graces, try as their companions might to create all manner of ridiculous scenarios to get them to talk again (Sera even jokingly asked Dorian if he could magic up a tiny thunderstorm so they could hide from it indoors in a small room, 'No, wait, that’d probably need lots of weird Fade shite; I’ll just go release the bees on em or something’); and Bull likes being hit anyway, so a training session between them would have worked out… Except that Cassandra has not even lifted her weapon yet; she is stuck fingering the hilt, nervously readjusting her hold every few moments, and closing her fist so tightly that the leather of her gauntlet is pulled taut over her knuckles, ready to rupture. And in the meanwhile, her gaze has been travelling far ahead, cast in shadow of worry, scanning the keeps ramparts and the mountainside beyond - and judging by the way she huffs, nostrils flaring, when her wandering eyes finally focus on Bull’s massive grey form, it takes her a lot of effort to pull herself together and to speak.  
  
  
'You… You still use your old skills, right? Tell me: have you noticed any signs… That might show… That I am right to worry… About the Inquisitor? Or is it just me… getting overprotective again?’  
  
  
Bull glances down and scrapes the ground thoughtfully with the tip of his own practice weapon; his sheer reluctance to answer, shoulders hunched and jutting formard like rounded boulders, pointed ears twitching slightly, speaks to Cassandra more clearly than an hour-long lecture would.  
  
  
'Here’s what I’ve seen,’ Bull responds at length, after clearing his throat. 'He leaves Skyhold a lot - and not on one of these missions to help folks recover from demon crap; cuz in that case, he would have taken Ser Squishytums from the stable. You know how much he loves that nuggalope; what a good laugh he has when the nobles squawk and gasp as he rides it through the streets’.  
  
  
Troubled as she is, Cassandra cannot keep her lip corners from jerking just a fraction of an inch upwards. The image of a cocky little dwarf parading on his bizarre mount, smug grin flashing on his tattooed, scarred sun-bronzed face, is just too precious to resist a smile.  
  
  
'But he always takes one of the regular horses; so this means it’s not official,’ Bull goes on. 'He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself - I think I’ve actually seen him in some sort of leather cowl?’  
  
  
'But what could he be doing in such secrecy?!’ Cassandra cries out, so abruptly that Bull starts and almost staggers back. 'And why would he be so stubbornly refusing to talk to anyone about this? Do you…’  
  
  
Her voice catches in her throat.  
  
  
'Do you suppose someone from his past has caught up with him again? The Carta? Just like the last time - when he was foolish enough to deal with it himself, and almost died? Maker, he swore to me - he swore that he would not be pulling another stunt like this!’  
  
  
She wrings her arms emphatically, tossing the practice sword blindly aside and nearly carving a fresh scar into Bull’s bared chest.  
  
  
'You know the boss,’ Bull remarks, catching hold of the weapon before it hits him - and smirking a bit to himself, proud that his sole eye has not let him down.   
  
'He may brag about all those impossible heists he’s pulled, but deep down, he’s ashamed of being a former thief. Worried about not being good enough for you; especially since you still can’t patch things up with Blackwall. Shit, he’s a weepy drunk, our boss; weepy and googly-eyed over you’.  
  
  
'Black… That man is different!’ Cassandra snaps, apparently in a hurry to pass her embarrassed flush for a heat wave of anger. 'Ralav never lied about his past! And if it does still haunt him, I have to know! So we can crush those Carta thugs together!’  
  
  
She is ready to say more, much more - but at this point, out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a small, stocky figure in a face-concealing cowl, attempting to sneak across the courtyard, with a square-shaped something tucked inder its arm.  
  
  
'Ralav?!’ she calls out, turning her back on a silently bemused Bull and racing to catch up with the stealthy little creeper, ber heavy boots raising whole jets of splashing water in every puddle she crosses. 'Ralav, where do you keep vanishing to?! Why are you clutching your arm to your body like that?! Are you wounded?! Do you need… Oh…’  
  
  
Her barrage of anxious questions trails off into a sigh of wonderment when she lays her hand on the dwarf’s shoulder, thus making him inadvertently let go of what he has been holding - which turns out to be a whole stack of music sheets. With a faint silky rustle, they spill out of Ralav’s grasp onto the ground (thankfully, there are no puddles in the immediate vicinity), and Cassandra’s eyes widen and fill with sparkling glimmer when she makes out some of the song titles.   
  
'Guard Chase’. 'The Dragon-Slaying Princess’. 'Love-Struck Thief’s Theme’. 'Adventurers Head Out’. 'Final Battle’. 'Love-Struck Reprise’.  
  
  
'Sweet Andraste…’ Cassandra whispers, flushed again and suddenly seeming very weak in the knees. 'I ruined another surprise with my fussing, didn’t I?’  
  
  
'Well, uh, sort of,’ Ralav confirms, squatting down to pick up his papers and looking up at her, his cowl pulled back to reveal a broad, somewhat sheepish face with a big hooked nose and a net of deep scars tracing a curious pattern through bristly copper hair.  
  
  
'I was working on this with you in mind, salroka. Because you made me be bolder with this… quirk of mine. Got me to believe that writing and singing songs is a worthwhile pastime. And I wanted to surprise everyone else, too. That’s why I jumped through such hoops to slink off to Val Royeaux unnoticed’.  
  
  
'Val Royeaux?’ Cassandra echoes, eyebrows arched in eager curiosity.   
  
  
'Yeah,’ the dwarf finishes reassembling his stack of sheets and gives it a fond pat.  
  
  
'I am putting on a play. At one of those fancy Orlesian theatres. We saved the owner’s holdings from a dragon once, so he was glad to provide me with everything I needed. It’s gonna be a musical… About a dwarven thief who falls in love with a princess and then goes and has adventures with her and their gang of misfit friends… And gets to live happily ever after. I hope it’s not too cheesy; it’s aimed more for kids, really, since I will be showering all the urchins we’ve taken in with free tickets. A great big fairy-tale, really’.  
  
  
Cassandra leans down to wrap her arms round the dwarf’s shoulders, all fretfulness having melted from her features, leaving behind a radiant glow.  
  
  
'It’s not cheesy at all,’ she murmurs tenderly. 'A fairy-tale with a happy ending always makes me smile’.


End file.
